


The Scroll of Zalaman

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, White Collar
Genre: Epilogue, Floo Network, Platform 9 3/4, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Sad Neal Caffrey, Statute of Secrecy (Harry Potter), Thestrals, Young Neal Caffrey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: Peter and Neal finally get answers...to questions they didn't even think to ask.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Yes, Minister

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Horn Of Amalthea](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/666313) by Remasa. 



> **Functions as an unofficial sequel**

Peter took a great big bite of his pretzel, and closed the luggage hold over his suitcase and jacket. 

“Alright; _talk_. How the hell did you become a witness in a case involving a 17th-century tapestry?” he inquired. 

“Oh..y’know that’s really a very long and _boring_ story,” Neal warned. 

Burke slammed down the tray table and smacked his badge open on it. 

“Nice try. It’s a long flight,”

Caffrey checked the aisles for air marshals, who were worse than _land_ Marshals, and started his story. 

**_He had been studying history at the university of Oxford for the summer, eventually getting a doctorate in it. It didn’t have his last name, or his professor, who’d been the one grading his thesis, on it; but was technically legit._ **

**_His interest in artifacts was awakened_**, ** _when the Templar Treasure came up and the professor mentioned a tapestry that had gone missing. Using shady tactics, a fake drivers licence, and counterfeit Euros, he ended up in the monastery under an armed guard. He thought they were planning a heist and they were. That day. Police were involved, he fled and stayed out of the Spanish mainland for the considerable future._**

“It never showed up in any news articles, so I figured it went from fence to fence and then got lost somewhere along the way. Whoever has it now is powerful and knows how to cover their tracks,” Neal noted.

“As is whoever our trio are hiding behind. Someone who can create school reports even more deep-cut and detailed than the FBI. You went to Oxford; you know how the bureaucracy is among elite schools in this country,” Burke speculated.

“Everything is documented. Either they didn’t go to that school or they attended under a different name. Still, you’re right. Someone does _not_ want us to know who they are or how they connect to this Kensington person. Bet that whole name’s fake as well,” Caffrey commented.

“Ugh...Scotland Yard’ll have their work cut out for them,” he sighed. 

* * *

**7 AM, the following day**

Peter made a note of the shining glass exterior outside the London Metropolitan Police Station. 

“ _New_ Scotland Yard is accurate,” 

“I wonder what happened to the old Scotland Yard,” Neal wondered.

“Maybe they didn’t think it was _great_ enough” the agent mused, walking inside.

Fortunately, there was a woman sitting at the desk.

“Hi, I’m here to report a crime. It should be _illegal_ for a woman of your infinite beauty to sit on such an uncomfortable chair. Neal Caffrey,” the con man introduced himself, flashing his _kid in a candy store_ -smile at her. 

The clerk shook his hand. “Emily,” she pointed at her nametag. “Emily Waltham”.

Peter tugged on his consultant’s shoulder. “You may have heard the name because he counterfeited 100 million pounds worth of banknotes,” he added, flashing his FBI badge. Neal slipped a handful of peppermint candies into his pocket, casually dropping one in his mouth. 

“Allegedly,” Neal insisted. Burke rolled his eyes. 

  
“We’re here to talk to Detective Inspector Brian Abernathy. He corresponded with a private investigating team on a case of mine some time ago,” Peter informed miss Waltham.

The clerk typed the name into her computer, to find the office number to call. Nothing. 

“I’m sorry, Agent, there doesn’t seem to be a DI by that name in our records,” Emily apologised. 

“Maybe he transferred, he could’ve been a trainee. Could you call someone? Just use the name, not the rank,” Burke tried. 

* * * * * _Meanwhile, at the Ministry of Magic_ * * * * *

A man in red velvet robes and a blue bowtie with an equally blue tint to his greying hair, ran frantically along the rows of Floo network entrances, on his way to Shacklebolt’s office. 

“Sorry to disturb you, minister, terribly sorry...but there is a tiny, smidgen of an _emergency_ ,” he panted out, wiping the sweat from his eyebrows. 

“Deep breaths, Elias. What exactly is the matter?” Kingsley imbibed. 

“It’s related to a case the Department of Magical A-Artifacts, investigated recently. The Horn of Amalthea. Someone from the muggle world just checked one of the disposable names we planted with the police,” his assistant elaborated.

“Why was this done in the first place?” the Minister wanted to know.

“In order to gain entry for our operatives within muggle law enforcement in the States, a story needed to be crafted, depicting a prior theft of the horn.”

“So now, they are close to discovering that this ‘officer’ doesn’t exist?” 

“I’m afraid so,” Elias nodded. Shacklebolt frowned.

“Tell them he is on holiday and ask for the contact info for the muggle. If they’re related to the case, Mr Potter probably knows them and can find out what they want to know,” 

“Yes Minister,” the secretary bowed, straightened his bowtie and left.

* * *

“I thought that case was over,” Harry mused. 

“Apparently not,” Hermione murmured. 

“I hate wearing tweed again,” Ron complained.

“Would you rather wear one of your mum’s jumpers?” the Chosen One smirked. 

“No,” Weasley sighed.

It wasn’t the sight of the three in itself that surprised Agent Burke. Rather, the fact that they wore _almost_ the same outfits as the last time they met. Even if private investigators dress bland out of tradition in that country, it struck him as odd that there was so little variation.

“Potter, Granger and Weasley, nice to see you again. Sorry I didn’t call,” Peter greeted. 

“I’m chuffed _he_ didn’t crank call me half a dozen times _long-distance_ ” Harry laughed, pointing at Neal. He didn’t deny the insinuation. 

“We’re sorry about the misunderstanding surrounding DI Abernathy. He’s retiring soon, I mixed up the dates of his sabbatical; I would’ve warned you before we left, had I known,” Hermione apologised.

“That’s okay,” Burke assured them. 

“I was just curious to meet the man who brought you to us, I’m actually here for a different case,” 

“It surrounds a 17th-century _tapestry_ ,” Neal informed them.

“Your client ever _collect_ anything like that?” Peter asked casually.

“I could check,” Harry offered. Getting suspicion off of the Ministry was vital in protecting the secret of the wizarding world as a whole. 

“Thank you very much, "


	2. A Discovery Of Wizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is revealed. Peter wishes it had just been Vikings.

Peter and Neal were welcomed up to the second floor and shown to the office of Detective Inspector _Ian Wiley_.

A nice man with thick and flattened brown hair, seemingly between Neal’s age and Peter’s, greeted them.

“Anyone offered you tea?” he checked. 

“I’m good thanks,” Peter turned it down. 

“Have any English breakfast?” Neal asked. 

“It’s morning, it’s England. _Of course,_ I do,” Ian smiled widely and shuffled out to get Caffrey his cuppa.

The copper returned with the tea and some shortbread. Neal only took one, because Peter immediately cleared his throat and picked out three candies from the pickpocket’s pocket.

“Suppose I should be _relieved_ it’s not someone else’s 50p,” DI Wiley chuckled. 

“Did you replace Abernathy?” Neal got suddenly curious.

“Who?” he frowned in confusion. 

“Abernathy. We were told he retired,” Peter elaborated.

“I’ve never heard of a DI by that name ever working at Scotland Yard,” Ian stated. 

“Do you have access to school records?” Burke tried.

  
“Yeah, what for?”

“Look up Harry Potter,” Neal decided to start with the leader. He seemed the most reasonable of the three. And yet also the sneakiest. Which to the _con man_ spoke volumes.

Wiley typed it in. “Let’s see, St Grogory’s Primary until the age of 11, accepted to Stonewall High for secondary, but never attended. No explanation,” the Brit murmured. “Okay, it gets muddier from here. His birthdate says he’s ‘bout as old as me, but he’s got no National Insurance number, no residence, nothing. It’s like he vanished into thin air!”

“ _Permanently_. I’m impressed...I think,” Neal wasn’t sure, but something scared him. The background check Peter did, listed different schools entirely, including university. Why lie about elementary school? Unless...you didn’t want someone calling said school asking about where their students went next...

“Let’s check Hermione Granger next,” Peter supplied. 

“Hastings School for Girls, again until the age of 11 followed by yet another black hole. Same age as Mr Potter,” the inspector recited.

Burke frowned. “Do you mind if I?..” he pointed at the computer. “No, go ahead, I’m intrigued. These people don’t seem to exist, and yet you’ve met them and they’ve given you their names,” he laughed.

The Suit typed Ron Weasley and Lucius Malfoy. No hits on either. Not even a birth certificate. Nor did it suggest _another_ Malfoy.

“Hermione said she, Potter, Weasley _and_ Malfoy’s son went to the same school. 2 don’t exist, and the other 2 spent _elementary_ school apart,” Neal noted.

“So...they must’ve met later, at a school we can’t find,” Wiley noted. 

“Well, it was worth a shot. Okay, we should get going. We have an appointment to stare at an antique rug,” Burke brought them back to the actual case they’re supposed to investigate.

“I can give you a ride,” the officer offered.

On the way out, the Detective Inspector wrote down a phone number and handed it to one of the clerks to call. 

“Ask about behaviour and family,” he instructed. There had to be a reason for their parents to send them to school in secret. And for any school to have the ability to erase any trace of their alumni after graduation.

* * *

Neal barely had to glance at the tapestry to tell it was a forgery. 

“The one I saw had inscriptions at the bottom,” he explained, pointing where the wavy lines on the top were more plentiful. Every other golden curl had a bigger gap in it, than the ones at the top. As if there was something _missing_. 

“What kind of inscriptions?” the curator wondered.

“I don’t know, like _cuneiform_ but more extravagant. Hey, Peter, you’re into Vikings; what are those chicken scratches they did called?” Neal asked. 

“Runes?”

“Yes!” Caffrey said confidently.

“Do you think you could copy it down on a piece of paper?” Burke asked. 

“I can try...”

He was handed a slip of paper and placed it underneath the gaps. By means of comparison, Neal managed to draw them out, closing his eyes a few times to picture them more clearly.

Peter read the sentence. It was utter nonsense. 

“I’m not a linguist, but that is certainly not Scandinavian,” he grumbled. 

“Not any of them? Remember, there are three Scandinavian languages and two additional that also used runes,” Neal pointed out.

“Yeah, this doesn’t sound like _any_ language,” the curator agreed. 

“Well, it’s not _Swahili_ I’ll give you that...” Caffrey mumbled.

“I’ll check with linguists from various universities, see if they’ve seen this sequence before,” 

* * *

Inspector Wiley had heard back from Potter’s school. What they had mentioned was... puzzling.

“Apparently, Harry was picked on quite a bit for being an orphan with taped on glasses and hand-me-down jumpers. His head teacher recalls an incident where he vanished from the playground and reappeared on the roof, with no indication of having sprinted up there while other kids had their backs turned. He just _poof!_ ended up on the roof, almost like..” Ian lost words to comprehend, let alone explain. 

Neal had a lightbulb moment. 

“Magic,” he suggested. 

Burke raised an eyebrow all the way to his receding hairline.

Ian said “Yes!” at the same time Peter said “What?”

“I know it sounds insane, but think about it. Teleportation using no electricity, no magnetics, kinetics or freak wind gusts...and it’s why their records are non-existent. 11 is the age they enter the magical world officially. Like _coming of age_. And it explains the stick Diana found in Malfoy’s cane,” Neal presented his theory.

  
“wands, teleportation..what have you been reading and/or watching?” Peter continued to refute the possibility. 

“It’s perfect, Peter. It’s not impossible. Magic has been suspected among humans for centuries, people were _burned_ for it. Maybe there was some truth to it. Maybe not all of them were innocent, even if they didn’t deserve their _sentence_ . Such would definitely be grounds for going dark. Hiding away, wiping records...tapestry,” Neal argued, blurting out the word _tapestry_. 

“Malfoy admitted to trying to kill Harry in his second year, so when he was 12...but Hermione was confident he didn’t kill Darius...with the gun! Because she knew he was too full of himself to use non-magical weaponry,” Peter realised. “You’re right, Neal. The stick is a wand,”

“You believe me now?” Caffrey asked. 

“Yeah. Magic is real. Wow. Magic is _real_ ,” Burke sighed. 

“Quite _something_ to wrap your head around,” Ian echoed the sentiment.

“Well, when the magical world collides with non-magical, us lawmen just gotta take a deep breath and..” 

“Cowboy up?” Neal supplied with a smirk. 

“Yeah,” Peter shrugged. 

“So; let’s recap what we now know. Wade Talmon is a wizard, who most likely wasn’t killed, rather sent to be adjudicated by his kind. Our trio went to magic school with the Malfoys who either resented them or tried to kill them, depending on _which one_ you mean. The way they blended in suggests they are government agents like Ian, or indeed _us,_ ” 

“Neal; what were you saying about the tapestry?” Wiley asked.

“Druids were very spiritual in their activities and very clandestine, it’s likely a lot of them were wizards. And the druids were frequently in contact with Vikings not entirely willingly...it would make sense that they’d use runes to write enchantments, rather than English or Latin,” Neal theorised.

“So the tapestry is a magical tapestry, which was stolen, copied by a non-magical person who couldn’t see the purpose of the inscription and thus left it out,” Peter considered it. 

“It’s why the real one disappeared and why this one became so high profile, ending up in a museum. People know the history, it’s time with the Knights Templar, they don’t notice anything missing, because only a wizard would know that there were runes, and what they mean,” Caffrey continued.

“You disproved yourself in the first instance,” Burke remarked.

“So, how do _we_ find out what they mean?” Wiley questioned. 

Neal just smiled.


	3. Soot, Leaves and Levitation Spells

The mission was simple; steal Harry Potter’s wand. If something magical happened, the jig was up. 

“Why did you have us meet you in an alley?” Potter immediately inquired. 

Neal observed the wizard. The way he composed himself and the flicking of his fingers gave away the wand’s location. 

A strategy for the lift arrived, after spotting some soot on his jacket. It contained some other type of powder. However their government's employees got to their offices, it left traces. On this particular wizard anyway. 

“Excuse me, you’ve got a little something..” he mentioned.

He brushed it off of Harry into a napkin, placing it carefully but casually into his pocket. It was crucial that Potter assumed he would throw away the soot without looking closer.

“Thank you,” Harry replied in gratitude. 

Neal slipped his fingers into the wand pocket, locating the stick. He slid it discreetly into his sleeve. 

What happened next was both shocking and expected. 

Caffrey fumbled with the sleeve as if to shake crumbs out of it, but instead revealed the wand, staring at it with intrigue. As soon as his hand grasped the wand, it threw him backwards, and shot out of his hand, like it refused to be held by a non-wizard. 

_ Great. Making logical arguments about magic. Not a good sign,  _ Neal reflected.

“Your wand  _ really _ doesn’t like me,” he noted aloud. 

The Trio was speechless. 

“That powder; magical chimney?” Caffrey joked. 

“Fireplace, actually,” Ron corrected. 

“Yeah, need the room for all those Robes,” 

Blank stares. 

“My friend calls all federal agents back home ‘Suits’ because they wear... suits,” Neal attempted to explain.

“Listen; I’ve been in this city half a day and  _ already _ I know you don’t wear that to work. Magical dust is still dust. You wouldn’t leave that there, which means you forgot to change into your work clothes of a different material. Like putting on your wife’s pants. If it doesn’t have a zipper, your fingers will reach for it anyway by reflex. I called you in a place without  _ phones _ , so you hurried here without checking your coat, most likely because you ordinarily emerge spotlessly. Plus, you rubbed your scar when I fell. Protecting a sore spot from sparks,”

“You cross your legs over your anklet,” Hermione noted. 

“You can move your wand, I won’t need to steal another one,” Neal assured her, noticing her discomfort. 

“I told you, you didn’t need to keep it like that just for a bloody meeting,” Ron mentioned. 

“Hush, Ronald!” she snapped at her husband.

“Look, I’m not here to put anyone in danger, or break any more laws. I’m also not here to get  _ another _ anklet put on my leg. Your society can remain hidden for eternity for all I care. Your secret’s safe with me,” Caffrey promised. 

“Why should we trust you?” Harry asked, warily. 

“Because I know the tapestry is fake. The real one has runes. And because whoever has the real one is either  _ in danger _ or a danger to others. Wizards and non-wizards alike,” Neal explained. “I need to protect my people, you need to protect yours. We can’t do either without working together,”

Harry, Ron and Hermione shared glances. Ron seemed to think he had a point. Hermione seemed to believe they needed the help. And Harry just figured,  _ what’s the harm? _

“Okay. Let’s do it,” Potter put his palm forward. Neal followed his example, as did Ron and Hermione. 

“For humanity,” all recited. 

_ For Humanity! _

* * *

Peter got another ride from Detective Inspector Wiley to Kings Cross Station. It was the safest place for wizards and muggles to interact without revealing the divide. 

They were met by a collection of wizards in robes.  _ Aurors _ . Familiar ones as well. 

“Casual Friday?” Burke commented. 

“I knew I should’ve worn the scarf!” Ron lamented.

“Hush Ronald!” Hermione chastised.

“Good to see you guys again; under honest pretenses,” Peter shook their hands, as if they were meeting for the first time. 

Wiley did the same. 

Harry stood silent for a second, observing the muggles.

“Well, go on then, Harry!” Ron reminded him.

Potter drew his wand, and flicked it towards Wiley. He promptly began levitating, just a few inches off the ground. 

“ _ Accio _ handcuffs!” he enunciated towards Burke. The cuffs flew toward Harry. 

“I think we’ve seen enough,” Burke interrupted, fearing what the next demonstration might be.

“Please, have some faith, Peter. We both want Neal to be safe,” Harry assured him.

“Alohomora,” he voiced gently, swishing his wand to summon the anklet from where it had fallen on the floor. 

“Now; before I give this back to you, I need to explain what’s going to happen next,” Potter introduced. 

“The first step in our investigation is to gather intel on where the real one has been traced around the world. Whoever wants it, may have the contacts to follow these tracks. Besides, judging by the obfuscating of the runes, the enchantment is powerful and considered dangerous by someone long ago...we need to find the real one, and stop it from being used, however it’s  _ meant _ to be used,” 

“That’s why you told is to meet at the platform? We’re taking a train?” Neal noted, mildly disappointed. 

Hermione smiled at him. “The resources we need are all at Hogwarts,  _ our school _ . The Floo Network would only take us to a village more than a kilometre downhill from it. And the former headmaster blocked Apparating to the castle during a period of unrest adjacent to yours in the mid-1900s,” she explained. 

“In order to get into the platform where the right train is, you need to go through this pillar. It looks solid, but if you each go through with one of us, it will melt away and you’ll pass right through. We’re taking the anklet off Neal to be safe. This particular magic is as old as the tapestry, and nearly half as dangerous. Not to mention  _ highly unpredictable, _ ” 

“Dibs on Harry,” Caffrey swallowed. “He’s saved my life before, I know I can trust him with it again,”

Wiley went with Weasley and Burke with Granger.

“Now, just look down, and sprint. Try to keep my pace, that’ll make it easier for the brickwork to shift around you,” Potter instructed, getting in position. 

Neal nodded. Harry bolted and he followed, closing his eyes just before they hit the wall. 

He felt a cold sensation, like he’d crashed into a light breeze. What was expected to be rock solid, slid off him like warm honey.

A beam of light told him that it was safe to open his eyes. 

Caffrey looked behind him. There, was the pillar he had walked through like it was a pile of leaves. 

In front of him was a sign describing their location as Platform  _ 9 ¾ _ . As well as a large red steam train. 

“Hallelujah,” Peter sighed, just glad to be on another platform and not cemented into the wall. 

“Holy..” Wiley panted, referring to the experience. Then he too, noticed their surroundings. 

“Halberd,” Neal remarked, at the same as Ian said  _ Halibut _ .

Ron looked oddly at the Detective Inspector, while the others including Peter, levelled equally blank stares at Caffrey. 

  
“What? The second steamer,” he pointed at the framework around the brass chimney in question. It did look somewhat like an  _ axe _ , Burke acknowledged.

“Looks like the choppy part,” Potter nodded in agreement.

“Before we go on; Neal, do you need to go to the bathroom? And, Harry, please tell me you’re gonna put his anklet back on  _ just  _ like it was,” the agent checked with concern. 

Neal and Harry tilted their heads and shrugged.

“Great,” Peter nodded in resignation, stepping onto the train with confidence.

The train was packed with  _ more _ people in  _ robes _ , wearing  _ pointy hats _ and carrying  _ cats _ . Though, some had owls or frogs instead. 

“Here we go!” Neal grinned in delight. 

The older members of the group shared a light chuckle, encouraging the optimism.


	4. Looney Loo Break

Harry guided the group into the first compartment on the left, straight ahead, but technically to the left of the entrance they’d all used.

Neal put his hat in the windowsill and his arms on the soft velvet of his seat. 

“This is the train we all take to school,” Hermione explained. 

“Except when you miss it and have to fly a Ford Anglia,” Ron added. 

“Hey, we used those back in the day, for stakeouts. How do you make them fly?” Peter inquired. 

“I don’t know...it’s prohibited as an example of Misuse of Magical Artefacts. That one belonged to my dad, it’s not like he _wrote it down_ for me or...or anything,” Weasley muttered awkwardly. 

“Keep in mind, we were just 12 at the time,” Harry mentioned. 

“Same year Malfoy tried to kill you,” Neal remembered. 

  
“Yeah, that was at the very end,” Potter added.

“Would you have preferred the threat of death at the start of the year instead?” he smirked.

“I dunno...the fact I survived it so easily, should’ve reassured me when all that other stuff happened. But that’s a long story,” Harry waved it off.

* * * * * * * * *

Eventually, the Honeydukes trolley trotted through their side of the carriage. Neal jumped up at the obvious sight of sweets. 

“Want anything? My treat,” Potter offered easily. Burke shrugged, while Caffrey inched over the selection, with the same scrutiny as he used with forgeries; both detecting _and_ making...

“I think I’ll have..ooh, one of those pasties. Magic pasties,” he remarked, utterly gobsmacked. “And 2 of these rock candy feathers,” Neal requested.

“Sugar Quills,” Harry informed, pulling out his purse full of galleons, sickles and knuts. He handed a small handful of silver and bronze to the older lady.

Ron bought himself a chocolate frog, catching it in its palm before it jumped away. 

“Either of you get Scamander yet?” the Robe asked. 

“What are you talking about? Trading cards?” Burke mused.

Weasley handed him the card. It featured a young man about Neal’s age, with curly brown hair and a blue frock with a yellow cravat. But, it wasn’t a picture. It was like a GIF, minus the screen. 

Neal read the back of the card. 

“Magizoologist. Magical zoologist. Meh, zoology was my least favourite subject. All the taxonomy. He can keep his 100 dragon species,” Caffrey quipped. 

Hermione looked sideways, awkwardly. 

“There’s more,” he deadpanned.

* * *

The ride was very calming for the CI, DI and FBI.

“Exactly how far away is this school?” Peter questioned, looking at his clock. 

“It needed to be this far away to minimize the number of... _non-magical_ people likely to snoop nearby,” Ron explained.

Neal stared blankly at the suspicious pause. As if he’d stopped himself from saying a bad word...

He was curious as to what that word might be. 

They went over a bridge spanning above a lake, which was subsequently followed by more lakes.

There was a nudge, originating in his lower regions. All the _bodies_ of water harkened back to one particular body made up primarily of water. His own. 

Neal smiled in acceptance. _Was gonna happen sooner or later._

He stood up, and walked to the door. Instantly, he turned around to ask for directions. 

“Which way to the bathroom?” 

“Either way, between the carriages. One to the left is closer, I _believe_ ,” Harry informed him.

“Cheers,” the con man bid adieu. 

**⚫️ ⚫️ ⚫️ ⚫️ ⚫️ ⚫️**

He found yet another red brass door, with no indication of whether someone was inside. Though it was _closed_. The lack of a visible lock didn’t faze him; these were wizards. And he’d felt the ease of which his anklet had loosened at being pointed at by the wand.

Neal leaned on the wall, trying to discern some noise; or lack thereof. 

“It’s not locked. Some people just don’t like looking at the loo before they use it,” a soft Irish voice said next to him. He looked up. The woman was wearing a beige robe, with a wand made of cedar tree in the right pocket. 

“Pretty, isn’t it? My father always says so,” she remarked. “Well, go on, then. I won’t tell anyone,” 

He laughed, though he couldn’t quite decide if it was casual or awkward. It seemed like a combination.

He walked to the door, and instantly turned around again. She hadn’t introduced herself; neither had he, actually. 

“I’m Luna, by the way, Luna Lovegood,” the witch smiled at him. 

“Neal. Neal Caffrey,” he smiled even brighter in return. She waved very briefly and exited, completely unaffected by his charm. 

Like dandruff, Luna disappeared from his mind; at least for the time being. He had a task to perform. 

The bathroom did have a lock after all, just very discreet. Miss Lovegood had a point about the prudent nature of the people, just like all ‘non-magical’ Brits were known for.

As he unzipped, he couldn’t help but wonder what a hassle it must be to go nr 2 with a robe on. Or maybe he was overestimating the _length_ of the garment. 

Either way, the flush was conventional. A rare example of uniformity.

* * *

“I am immeasurably grateful that even in your _antiquated_ society, the restrooms are normal,” he noted, checking his clock. It really was a long ride. Unless they were pulling into the station now; which, judging by the shrubbery-infested moors they were not.

“What, did you fall in?” Peter quipped, closing his newspaper.

Caffrey realised he’d been gone a while. 

“No, I ran into an _interesting_ woman,” Neal mentioned.

“Oh, who was it?” Hermione was intrigued which wizard, since there were no whispers about Muggles, and no one asked either of the Aurors about his presence. 

“Luna Lovegood,” he stated. 

The three nodded in understanding. Luna. Of course. 

“Yes...she is _certainly_ interesting,” Granger agreed. 

“She owns her own newspaper...or tabloid really,” Harry presented. 

“Does it have moving people, too?” Burke asked, exasperated. Potter nodded, sympathetically.

* * * * * * * * * *

They were joined at the platform by a dark-skinned wizard wearing a diamond-patterned cap, a _kufi_. 

“Did you sew those yourself?” the consultant immediately asked. 

“No, it is a family heirloom. I’m half-Irish actually,” Kingsley smiled. 

“Gentlemen, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic,” Harry introduced. 

Neal greeted him with an enthusiastic handshake. 

“So these are the people who stitched us up so very rapidly,” 

“Well, the main credit goes to Neal. He was first to grow suspicious,” Peter corrected. 

“I see. Well, Mr Caffrey; what gave us away?” the Minister wanted to know. 

“Your agents, and Lucius Malfoy each slipped the first few letters of a word, an adjective. Is used to describe a brave wizard, apparently. Gry-something,” Neal retold.

“Gryffindor. It’s one of the four school houses,” Ron explained. 

“Oh, I’m familiar with that practice. And the rivalry. Although, it was more hitting each other with boat paddles, not killing curses,”

“The wit of you muggles never fail to astonish me,” Shacklebolt chuckled. 

  
“Muggle?” Peter queried. 

“Non-magical people. Sorry, it’s quite rude,” Harry apologised.

“Derogatory, yes, I’d think so. A little _condescending_ sure, but there’s no good in punishing the present for the prejudicial linguistics of the past,” Neal assured them.

“I’ve been called a mug plenty of times; I’ll always turn the other cheek. Muggle sounds downright ridiculous,” Ian agreed.

“That’s why you 2 are partially accounted for in our world,” the detective inspector realised. “You went to muggle schools. Weasley didn’t,” 

“Mum taught me plenty. Reckon I’d get smacked with a wooden spoon less if she hadn’t,” Ron huffed. 

“At least you got to share with 5 brothers and a sister. I had a big-boned cousin,” Potter reminded him.

“Before Neal takes a page out of his playbook and Apparates out of here, can someone please explain to me what you’re gonna do with his anklet?” Peter interjected. 

“Yes, certainly. We will guide you to the next item of transport to the castle itself, then you will rejoin us in the village to connect it to his temporary radius. It’s quite complicated; for now, Elias will establish a simple tracking spell...a magical _perimeter_ within 100 metres of our Head Auror,” Kingsley reassured him. 

A flick of a wand later, and it was done.

“Have you ever seen a fly try to go out of a closed window?” Harry asked. Caffrey confirmed it. 

He buzzed and pointed at Neal.

“I’m a muggle. We _run_ ,” Neal sprinted a while away from the group, waving his hands demonstratively.

“This is the man you gave 2 miles?” Wiley remarked humorously. 

  
“And he only used _1.6_ ”


	5. Thestrals, Traces and Transfiguration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal pets a horse.

The forest got dark in the 20 minutes that they walked through it; on the bright side, the sunset was absolutely gorgeous.

Neal tried to focus on being reminded of his escape, or the view from June’s penthouse in the morning. And not on the memory of the hangar...where Kate’s plane blew up.

“You ok?” Peter asked, noticing he had gone quiet. 

“Yeah...just the sunset, it’s very _touching_. Stirs the mind,” he remarked softly.

They entered a clearing. There were several carriages, all of them bound to black skeletal horses. Or nothing at all.  


“What are they?” Neal asked, captivated. 

“Thestrals,” Hermione informed him. 

The con man stepped forward confidently, but stiffly. He kept his pace even, so as to not frighten the animal. He held out his hand in a fist, pointing a few fingers up, inviting them to be sniffed. The thestral complied, letting him stroke its nose slowly. 

“Why is he petting an invisible horse?” Peter questioned, staring at the air and Caffrey’s hand motions. 

Neal stopped, befuddled. 

  
“It’s the way the magic works. You can only see Thestrals if you’ve seen someone die,” Harry explained. 

Neal closed his eyes and put his hands on his lap. He looked up at the being. The thing that appeared to him, as a consolation prize for losing the love of his life. 

He began to scratch its chin, but retracted, establishing distance. The stallion took a small step forward, and rubbed its head against his. It leaned its head on his shoulder, braying softly. Caffrey leaned into the gesture; his eyes closed again. The petting resumed.

“Neal loves animals. Especially my dog. It’s almost like he can be more himself with them than with  _ people _ ,” Burke noted.

Neal finished feeding the thestral an apple, and joined the others. 

“Didn’t think one could take to a Muggle so much,” Harry noted. 

“Well, I don’t think  _ she _ cares about the difference,” Neal pointed out.

“Who did you see die, if you didn’t mind me asking?” Wiley wondered.

“The love of my life. Her name was Kate Moreau,” the con man stated.

They started moving, and suddenly Neal had a realisation.

“Hold on; Peter was there with me when it happened. Why can’t he see them?” 

“I may have a theory,” Burke posited. “In the heat of the moment, my focus was on keeping you safe, and the fact that the plane blew up,  _ as well as  _ why it did. Not on Kate obviously not surviving the blast. The consequence was less present in my mind. Thus, I did not  _ see  _ her die exactly the way you did,” 

“That sounds reasonable, Pete. There have been accounts of people seeing death, but not Thestrals until later. I was only 1 when my mother died and didn’t see them until I was 15,” Potter agreed.

* * *

They were nearly halfway to the castle when the carriage stopped. All passengers looked around confused, for what might have gone in the way of the wheels, between the carriage and the ‘horse’, or in Caffrey’s case; at the trees. 

Harry smirked, holding back laughter. 

“Don’t worry, the trees aren’t alive. Not these anyway,” he quipped.

Neal’s eyes widened at the suspiciously helpful remark.

“Great, then while we’re stuck here, I’m gonna go take a  _ leak _ on one,” Caffrey jumped off the carriage.

He counted the steps carefully as soon as he was out of sight.

“How’d you know he needed a wee?” Wiley wondered.

“Same thing happened to me in my 3rd year. There was this thing on the train that freaked me out, so I forgot to go while still at the station,” Harry explained.

“That was why we stopped, wasn’t it? How does that work?” Peter asked.

“There’s this thing called the Trace. It keeps track of whether young wizards and witches use magic outside of school; which is not allowed. The Thestrals belong to the Ministry, so through the Trace, they can tell if a student needs the  _ loo _ . Apparently, the  _ perimeter _ works similarly,” Potter smiled, as Neal returned.

“There  _ was _ a bathroom at the station, you know,” Hermione informed the muggle.

“There was also a Minister of Magic,” Caffrey defended awkwardly.

“Problem with authority figures? ‘Cause in case you didn’t realise, there’s a Detective Inspector and FBI Agent sitting next to you,” Harry quipped.

“No, just  _ heads of state _ ,” Neal pointed out. 

“Well you’re not the first or the last,” Ron assured him.

* * *

They entered the castle. Granger shot a Patronus towards the stairs to announce their arrival, while Neal leaned on the wall beside. He admired the lamps, the stone statues out front, and the paintings; closing his eyes in boredom, when he found them all to be alive.

“Give me one good reason not to turn the  _ muggles _ into pocket watches,” Headmaster McGonagall clipped in exasperation.

“You can start with me; I made the carriage stop,” Neal apologised.

“Oh. I see. Well, many a student at this school has been delayed, for much the  _ same _ reason, Mr Caffrey. The workings of the human body occasionally imitate  _ magic _ ,” Minerva nodded, understanding completely.

“Or make you refuse to speak up in front of the  _ Minister _ of Magic,” Peter muttered dryly. 

  
“Actually, that sounds fairly ordinary to me. Perfectly natural,” she noted, nonplussed, as she elegantly strode away with some  _ haste _ ; leading a bunch of unwitting nitwits up the stairs once more...


End file.
